A recurring weakness in conservative thought deserves frank acknowledgment. When an institution or custom proves useful, even noble, and manages to endure for a generation or two, conservatives tend to regard it as if it had existed from time immemorial. It becomes imagined as part of our “nature,” biologically inevitable, and—so the story goes—suddenly under attack for the very first time in human history. From there, myths of a lost world are spun. They enter the pages of lofty conservative tomes, where initiates read them with reverence, feeling themselves set apart from the ordinary herd. We all know the pattern.
What is missing is the humbler, yet stronger, stance: This works well for us; it worked well for our parents; therefore, we intend to keep it—at least until something demonstrably better arises. That is not mythology. That is prudence.
The matter touches especially on the domains of family life, the raising of children, and moral conduct. And while one might dismiss this as a harmless inclination, it carries real dangers. Those who live by myth struggle to identify the true roots of social problems, let alone to address them effectively. They are at a disadvantage against opponents who are less enchanted by the stories of permanence and antiquity.
The claim of being “anchored in hundreds of generations” sounds elevated. In practice, however, it often proves a vulnerability. It tempts conservatives to mistake sentiment for truth, reverence for reason, and it blinds them with a false sense of grandeur.